


Growing Up Murdock

by clowsan, youareiron_andyouarestrong



Series: Broadening the World [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dad!Matt, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Dynamics, Introducing, Jon Murdock, Mom!Claire, Ruthie Murdock, Soph Murdock, additions to the Murdock family, stays together, the family that devils together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clowsan/pseuds/clowsan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Murdocks from the brownstone across the street are admittedly weird. But they are the most gorgeous family one will see this side of Hell's Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Apple(s) Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I strongly urge you to read the first fic in this series, Cause You Were All I Ever Longed For, where we introduced Izzy Murdock. She will be featured a lot in this universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interacting with Jon and Soph in the morning is a lot like defusing a bomb. One must be quick to avert the possibility of detonation.

Interacting with Jon and Soph in the morning is a lot like defusing a bomb. One must be quick to avert the possibility of detonation.

Soph is easy enough to handle. She gets up when she is suppose to, dark auburn curls brushed and already dressed. She eats quietly and reads the comics from the digital copy of the morning newspaper. Talking to her beyond 'good morning' is not advised until she is finished with breakfast and her reading.

Simple enough, but with Jon in the mix it becomes a whole bag of interesting and not in a good way.

Saying that Jon is not a morning person is the understatement of the century. He is barely functional before 10 am and practically catatonic at 7:30 that up until he is six years old either Matt or Claire has to physically lift him up from his bed, place him at the breakfast table and prop him with a wooden spatula just to get him in any semblance of wakefulness.

But Jon is ten years old now, looking more and more like a Murdock each day. Prepubescent self-consciousness is enough to drag him out of bed because Matt is more than capable of carrying the boy if he ever finds himself unable to get up by his own volition. And at ten nothing is more embarrassing than the notion of being picked up by a parent.

It doesn’t mean the boy is all chirper in morning. No. He is tumultuous and cranky which would have been fine but a grumpy Jon means an obnoxious Jon. When he is younger, he will drop on a seat next to his twin sister, hair still sticking up in different direction and will start bugging Soph.

“Watcha reading, Soph?” He will ask. “Can I read too Soph?”

The girl will try and ignore him for the first few minutes. But if Claire understands the twins, it is that one cannot really disregard the other for too long. The weird cognitive connection thing that usually makes them amicable towards each other is working against them. One will be irritated and the other will mentally get a whiff of it and it will start building.

Soph will start using three syllable words to make her brother stop. Big words that Jon can only understand because his sister can comprehend them. Jon will start calling her a meanie and start poking her. Those days end in tears and long talks about being better siblings and hugging and saying sorry.

Matt and Claire have learned a lot since then. Food is the best solution. Get food into Jon as fast as they can to offset the crankiness. It keeps his mouth occupied and cuts back the probability of him disturbing Soph before she is ready.

Three stacks of pancakes, one substantially taller than the others, still warm from the griddle wait on the table. A set of footsteps, light and almost silent. Matt smiles. “Good morning, Sophia.”

The ten year old mumbles a one word reply. There is a thud from the second floor as the older man handed the girl the electronic tablet for her to read the morning comics. Another couple of muffled sounds of somebody hitting the wall before another ten year old enters the kitchen.

Soph makes a sound of disapproval as Jon staggers to the breakfast nook. Every step is sluggish and heavy.

"Morning Jon."

The boy answers with a groan and a scrape of porcelain against wood as he reach for his high stack of pancakes. The sweet smell of maple syrup blooms in the air as Jon drenches his food with it.

"Everyone is in a good mood then." Matt teases and his children's annoyed glares feel like a blast of hot air from a heater against his face. He chuckles. The first day of school is especially hard for them. Their bodies still adjusting from their lax summer vacation schedule.

A giggle catches all their attention. It is an odd sound in a house full of not-morning people. The youngest Murdock has entered the kitchen with Claire.

"Good morning!" The little girl greets, bright and just on that side of loud.

Ruthie is always a cheerful child. A little ray of sunshine that never fails to brighten up everybody's day. Her joy is so infectious that he can swear he can feel it pouring out of her. No one is immune to it. Even now the twins reply to her morning greeting in a perkier way than they did to Matt's.

"Go on baby, show Daddy what you have on." Claire says as Ruthie half walks and half skips towards Matt.

She and Claire have been very secretive about her first day of big kids' school outfit and this will be the first time Matt will be seeing it. How time flies. Their Ruthie is starting kindergarten.

Two small and soft hands take his larger and calloused one. Ruthie places his hand on the top her head and Matt smiles as starts to carefully feel, following the dips and bumps of hair. A crown braid.

"That's lovely." He compliments and somehow he feels elation burst in his chest from his daughter's direction.

"Daddy feel my shirt. Feel my shirt." Ruthie says, excitedly.

Matt lifts an eyebrow but does what he is told. His fingertips hit a bump a second later. One of those bedazzling gems. He feels another one and it takes him one more to realize that it is braille. His fingers flits over the rest of them and a soft, affectionate smile stretches his lips.

 _Daddy's Little Princess_. It reads.

"Do you like it? I maded it with Mommy."

"I love it, sweetheart." He replies.

"Yay!" She cheers. "Mommy, he loves it."

"Yes, I heard baby." Claire says, behind him. The coffee maker's drip drip is in sync with her heartbeat. "It's time to eat breakfast though. The bus will be here any minute."

"Okay." Ruthie chirps as she clambers up to her spot on the table.

Matt tilts his head and lets Ruthie's sweet voice saying grace wash over him.

* * *

  
"Jon come over here."

The boy groans but walks towards Claire. He is getting to be so tall. She tries to wrestle his reddish brown curls into something that looks less like a bird's nest but gives up after a moment. It is no use. "Baby, maybe next time you can brush it before it dries?"

Jon shrugs noncommittally and Claire sighs. They are waiting for the school bus to arrive in front of their brownstone house. Ruthie is holding on to Matt's hand and is chattering about her plans for the day.

Times like this, Claire wishes they have a car so she can drive the children to school herself and make sure that Ruthie is all settled for her first day but in the grand scheme of things, a car is just not practical.

"Don't worry Mom." Soph says, dragging her out of her thoughts. "Jon and I will make sure she's all settled down."

Claire smiles, cupping Soph's cheek. Her look alike girl. "Thank you, sweetie. That makes me feel better."

The familiar yellow school bus approaches and stops at the curb in front of their house. Claire takes a couple more pictures. She gives the twins quick kisses before hugging Ruthie tightly. “Enjoy your first day, baby. You can tell me and Daddy all about it when you come home, okay?”

“Okay Mommy.”

Claire takes a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. She presses her lips on the top of the little girl’s head. “Okay, okay then.” She says as she let Ruthie go and watch her walk towards the waiting Jon and Soph. Ruthie gives them one final wave before climbing up the bus. The twins follow her nudging each other.

“Jon and Soph stop that.” Claire calls out. Both of them throw her a smirk that is entirely too Matt before scrambling up the vehicle.

Claire waves up until the bus turns a corner before her body slumps. Matt is suddenly there, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She nods, looking at him and grabbing his hand so she is holding it at her side. “Yeah. I just can’t believe how fast they grow up.”

“I know.” He replies. There is a pause. “We can have another one.” He adds, slyly.

She rolls her eyes, bumping her hip against his. “I don’t know. You’re getting too old for the rough housing, darling.”

* * *

  
There is a certain type of deja vu when Claire is paged to the front desk. The phone is unhooked, waiting for her.

The last time this scene happens , the twins are in second grade. A child with autism is being bullied by a group of fifth graders and being their father's children Jon and Soph have decided to intervene. It turns to a full blown fist fight. Four eleven year olds versus two eight year olds. Jon ends up with skinned knuckles and a bloody nose while Soph sprains her wrist and bruises her ribs.

But they have been victorious.

Matt and Claire are caught between being proud and being horrified. It would have hypocritical if they tell their children that violence is not the answer when Matt goes out almost every night to beat criminals to a bloody pulp. So they tell them dealing with bullies are a teacher's job. The twins are to report cases of bullying to a trusted adult.

Jon and Soph nod their understanding and so far that type of incident has not happen again. But as Claire approaches the phone, she cannot shake the feeling that the twins' streak have ended.

She takes a deep breath. _Maybe this will be different_. She thinks, optimistically, as she lifts the receiver.

That lasts for about half a second before the principal's voice reaches her ears.

* * *

  
In some ways it is the same from the last time. Like the fact that the twins are sitting on those uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the principal office. They are almost huddled together, jaws tense and eyebrows scrunch. The Murdock Game Face, as Claire calls it.

They seem to sense that she has arrived because they pan their heads towards her direction and stand up in a set of eerie synchronized movements.

“What happened?” She asks.

Both of them shift their weight on their heels but none answer. Claire licks her lips.

They are not extensively injured, she notes. Jon has a busted lip and Soph has a small cut across the high arch of her left eyebrow. Whether this is because the twins are better with their fists now or because they have fewer opponents is yet to be determined.

The door to the principal’s office opens. “Mrs. Murdock. This way please.”

* * *

  
Sometimes Matt questions the wisdom of training his children to fight. Claire has been wary of it at first but since then changed her mind and is fully supportive. _Better you than somebody else, Matt._ She tells him. _At least with you they are safe and I know you want what’s best for them_.

He and the twins have their sessions during Saturday mornings. It starts with meditating, then some stretching before he transitions to some basic techniques. He knows how they fight. How better they are when they fight together than alone. So he is not really surprised when he receives a call from Claire and she tells him that the twins have taken down six other children with barely anything to show for it.

It makes him just on that side of proud that the twins taught some bullies a lesson they will likely never forget. Though he will not say that outloud. Claire will kill him.

He schools his face into something more passive as he enters the house. Four set of heartbeats greets him. Claire and Ruthie in the kitchen. The twins in their respective rooms. Punished? Or contemplating? Brooding. A small voice in his head that sounds too much like Foggy says.

“I’m home.” He calls out.

Thundering footsteps reaches his ears before the soft body of Ruthie collides against his leg. He smiles.

“Hey Ruthie.” He greets, as he bends down so he can scoop her up. She immediately hides her face against the crook of his shoulder when he settles her on his hip. He lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head to the direction Claire is approaching from. “That bad, huh?” He asks.

His wife gives him a peck on the cheek. Her fingers linger on his jaw. “The twins haven’t been out of their rooms since I excused them.” She pauses. “I think they’ve stewed long enough. We can talk to them after dinner.”

* * *

  
Dinner is a silent affair. Usually the children filled the table with laughter and various stories of their day but tonight they are all quiet and unnaturally focused on their food. Though, Claire notices that they barely finish their first servings of the chicken casserole. Even Jon, who usually has fourths, shakes his head when she asks if he wanted more.

She sighs and tells the twins to come to the living room when they are done with the dishes.

“Yes, Mom.” They answer together.

Claire knows they are tense when they do that. She wants to tell them they are not in trouble but they kinda are.

They shuffle in after ten minutes just as Matt comes back from depositing Ruthie in her bedroom.

"Maybe we should start with what happened." She says as they all settle down.

She has heard from the principal what had happened of course but she and Matt make it a point to hear the children's side of the story.

* * *

  
Sophia's upper lip hurts.

She grimaces. No, not her lip. She reminds herself. Jon's. But it may have well been hers with all the phantom pain she is feeling.

Ever since she can remember she and her brother have this connection. A kind of door between their minds. It is usually closed. The other side only accessible if they concentrate hard enough.

However, suffering severe pain and/or extreme emotions blow the mental door wide open, mixing their consciousness. It is difficult and overwhelming to wade through which thoughts is which twin so they stop being Jon and Soph. They become one person.

JonSoph tells mom and dad about Paul Corey and his cronies who hates their guts. _Her_ guts because she beats him in academics and band and she ignores him everytime he confronts her.

"How come you never told us about this boy?" Their mother asks, worry in her tone.

They shrug.

"We never thought--"

"He's an issue."

How wrong they are. Paul Corey makes the mistake of taking out his frustration on Ruthie. They have seen him and his gang at lunchtime just as their little sister falls to the rough ground. Then it is like a red film fell over their eyes.

Sophia recalls the satisfaction of feeling Corey's nose give in under her fist. Or is it Jon who did that? She is not sure. She doesn't really care.

What she-- they care about is how Ruthie looked in the aftermath. Wide eyed and skittering away from their hands like a spook animal. Their baby sister hid behind the teacher's leg as the twins' high from their righteous victory comes to a crash.

"She was scared--" Sophia starts, glancing at their parents.

"Of us. It was--" Jon continues.

"Horrible."

"We never--"

"Want to see her--"

"Look at us--"

"Like that ever again."

* * *

  
Matt sighs. He can feel the twins' remorse from where he is on the couch. It makes it difficult to lecture them. But lecture them he must. The follies of being a parent.

"Come here the two of you." He says, softly.

There is a shuffling of feet on the same precised rhythm. He is pretty sure his children are moving in unison. They stop about a foot away from him. He offers his hands and they don't hesitate to place theirs on top of his. Jon on the right and Soph on the left.

"Listen. Your mom and I are glad that you care very much about Ruthie. It is good to know that you will stand up for her." He runs his thumbs over their knuckles. "But you have to understand that when you use these hands and your skills for violence, no matter how righteous the cause or whether you win, there is always consequences."

"Yes, Dad." They answer.

"I want to remember this day. This emotion. You remember it and the next time you feel like retaliating using your fists, you ask yourselves first if it is worth feeling this emotion again."

He feels them tense then relax as if their bodies are accepting the order. He gives their hands a firm squeeze and they respond in kind.

"Now. I need you two to go upstairs and apologize to Ruthie. She feels very sad that she got you both in trouble."

"But it's not her fault!" Jon exclaims.

"It's ours and that idiot Corey." Soph adds. "Mostly that idiot Corey."

"Well maybe you can tell her that."

* * *

  
Claire shakes her head, affectionately, at the scene before her. On Ruthie's too small bed, all her children lay asleep. Her youngest in between the twins. Her body curls against Soph's body. Jon's tall frame is almost falling off the edge. It is a sweet sight.

After Matt's lecture, the night has turned better. Jon and Soph apologize to them. Each promising to be better the next time before scampering up the stairs to Ruthie's bedroom. By the looks of it everybody has made up.

She debates waking up the twins and making them go to their respective rooms but it has been a long day and they are all sleeping peacefully.

She smiles and arranges the covers over them. She gives them each a tender kiss on the forehead. Ruthie shifts slightly, the corners of her rosy lips curling, before settling down again.

She leaves the door slightly ajar. It is nowhere near perfect but this has been as good a day as any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rachel and I have written so much about the Murdock children, it's not even funny anymore :P. More to come eventually.


	2. More Than Sharing A Last Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruthie is four years old when it is first pointed out to her that she doesn't look like the rest of her family.

Ruthie is four years old when it is first pointed out to her that she doesn't look like the rest of her family. 

At that age, she is no longer left all day with her Abuelo and Abuelita in their house that smells strongly like Fabuloso, lemon, and chile instead she goes to the preschool her older siblings previously attended for half the day. 

Sunset Preschool and Daycare is a good place. It has a room with wide windows that let the lights in and a huge sandbox and a nice play structure in its backyard. Ruthie likes it and doesn't even cry the first time she is dropped off.

The teachers are nice and have a scent of cucumbers and cinnamon sugar cookies on them. Ruthie spends most of her time learning her alphabets and how to count, coloring pictures and meeting new friends. 

One day, Ms. Francine tells them to bring a family picture the next day so everybody can talk about their families. Ruthie smiles, all excited when she comes home. She loves her family and she can't wait to talk about them. 

Her mother is more than happy to help her find a photo to bring. They chosen the most recent one that is taken last summer during the twins' ninth birthday party. She remembers it well. It is suppose to be a serious picture but Jon is trying to show his "superhero pose". So he is up front, arms spread and a wide silly grin stretching his face. Soph is caught mid-rolling her eyes but her lips are curled up in amusement. Mommy is full blown laughing and so is Daddy, who is carrying Ruthie. 

She thinks it is the best picture ever. So she brings it to class. She waits patiently for Ms. Francine to call her.

Her friend, Jose, leans over to look at the picture. "How come you don't look like your Mommy and Daddy?" He asks.

Ruthie scrunches her eyebrows together. "What do you mean?" 

Jose points at her parents. "Your mommy and daddy has brown hair, you have red. And see..."

She looks and realizes that he is right. She is pale where all her other members of her family are dark. Even her Daddy is just a shade darker than her. 

"Maybe you're adopted like me." Laney pipes in. "I don't look like my dads." 

Ruthie nods. Maybe she is. She never thought of it before. She doesn't mind if she is though because Laney's dads love her so much. "Maybe." She says. "I will ask my mommy later."

*  
Mommy's reaction is quite funny when she asks her later that night. Her eyes almost bugs out of their sockets and she almost chokes on her water. Daddy is going to be home late tonight. He and Aunt Izzy had some "business" to attend to. The twins snigger in the background. 

"Ruthie where did you get that idea?" She asks.

"Acause I don't look like you or Daddy." Ruthie glances at her siblings. "Soph and Jon look like you and Daddy."

Mommy shakes her head and stretches a hand to card through Ruthie's hair. "Baby you're not adopted--"

"Yeah you're not. We saw Mom's tummy grow big with you in it." Jon chimes in, in between bites of broccoli. 

Ruthie smiles and gazes at Soph who adds. "It's not her tummy that grew, Jon. It's her uterus. But yes. We even saw an ultrasound of you. So we can safely say you're truly a Murdock."

Ruthie nods, "But why don't I looks like you or Daddy?"

"Because baby, you have your grandma's look."

The little girl's crumples in confusion. "Abuelita?" 

Mommy chuckles. "No. No. Not my mother, sweetie. Daddy's mommy." 

"Oh..."

No one really ever talked about Daddy's mommy. She lives in Brooklyn, Aunt Izzy tells them, but that is all Ruthie knows about her. 

*  
There is a nice surprise that greets Ruthie when she wakes up the next morning. Daddy is at the stove cooking some eggs and at the breakfast table there is a familiar figure.

"Aunt Izzy!" She greets, flinging her body to the older woman's. 

"Heya squirt." Aunt Izzy replies, hugging her tightly. "Look at you, so happy at nine in the morning. So different from your sissy and bubba." 

Ruthie smiles and points out. "You're happy too, Aunt Izzy." 

"Ah but I cheated.” She lifts the big porcelain mug in her hand. “I'm already on my second cup of coffee." 

Ruthie giggles. She likes it when Aunt Izzy stays the night. Daddy turns off the stove and walks to the table. He places a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Ruthie as he kisses the top of her head. 

“So I heard you asked Mommy if you are adopted last night.” Daddy says as he sits beside her.

“I did. I thinked I was acause I don't look like you or Mommy.” Ruthie grins widely. “But I knows now why. I gots your mommy’s looks.” 

Daddy smiles but it is not a fully happy smile. A half smile. She reaches out to touch his massive warm hand. “Thank you sweetie.” He touches her cheek. “Yes. The Brennan look. Anyway, I was wondering if you want, instead of going to the preschool today, you can accompany Aunt Izzy somewhere.”

“A trip?”

“Yeah.” It is Aunt Izzy who answers. “Just you and me, squirt. What do you think?”

“I’d like that!" 

*  
Aunt Izzy holds her hand as they enter the subway station. Ruthie has tried to ask where they are going but her companion says that it is a surprise. Ruthie stays close, tucking herself against the older woman’s side. Aunt Izzy’s hair is also red but it is darker than hers. She lets the steady rhythm of the train and her Aunt’s calmness lull her into a light nap.

“Ruthie.”

The little girl’s eyes snap open. Aunt Izzy is smiling at her. 

“Come on. We’re here.”

Ruthie tries to guess where they are but the place is quite unfamiliar. They stop in a bakery to buy a dozen different pastries then they keep on walking until they reach a house. Well it is more a group of houses with a very nice lawn and a great big tree up front. The little girl thinks she has been here before. 

The people inside wear scrubs like Ruthie's mom. Most of them know Aunt Izzy, stopping them to greet and chat and coo over Ruthie. Her Aunt give them all pastries. Glazed donuts for Donna and Liza. Danish for Tyrone. Cinnamon roll for Kyle and Patrick. 

They finally arrive at the front desk. There is a tall, dark man sitting behind the counter.

"Izzy!" He greets them. 

"Hey Barney. Bear claw?" Aunt Izzy says opening the pastry box for last thing in there.

"You're a life saver, woman." Barney replies, gratefully as he takes a big bite out of the treat.

Aunt Izzy smiles. "How is he today?"

Barney swallows. "He's good. Actually, he was looking for you earlier."

Ruthie can feel the relief come off the older woman in waves. "That's great."

"Yeah. Just go straight ahead. He's in his room."

"Thanks Barney."

Aunt Izzy takes Ruthie's hand. "There is somebody I want you to meet, squirt."

*  
Grandpa Hudson is Daddy and Aunt Izzy's Grandpa. That makes him Ruthie’s Great Grandpa. He is very old. His skin is wrinkled and reminds Ruthie of the bark of a tree. He has spots on his forehead and a great big tuff of pure white hair atop his head, like Einstein. He has Parkinson's, her Aunt explains. Some days are bad. The shaking is strong and some days are even worse when his memory is all but gone but today, today is a good day. He is steady and can recognize Aunt Izzy. 

When they are introduced, Grandpa Hudson beckons for Ruthie to come closer. His glasses magnifies his hazel eyes ten times their normal size. Daddy's and Soph's eyes. He smiles. "My, my, my. Bless my soul. Look like Maggie, this one. Down to my late Dad's eyes."

"Brennan looks are bound to show up somewhere." Aunt Izzy says, picking up clutter around the room. 

Grandpa Hudson wheezes out a laugh before focusing on Ruthie again. "Aye. But the Murdock is strong in this one too. Ain't that right, wee one? The _deabhal djowl_ is in there somewhere. The Brennan look can't hide it."

Ruthie is not sure what the _“death bass baws”_ is. But she is a Murdock and she doesn't feel anything bad with how he says it. It is almost like a familiar tease so she nods.

Grandpa Hudson laughs again, satisfied, and fondly pats her head. "How old are you, _a leanbh_?"

Ruthie doesn't understand the last word but there is so much affection behind it. "Four." She replies proudly, holding up the appropriate number of fingers. 

He hums. "I remember your Aunt Izzy when she's four. Always insisting she's no longer a baby." 

"Hey! Don't badmouth me to my niece, old man." 

Ruthie giggles and Grandpa Hudson winks. 

Aunt Izzy huffs but smiles as well. "Grandpa, why don't you show Ruthie the Brennan family album. She'd like that." 

"Really now? Well then, _a leanbh,_ see that shelf over there?"

She glances over her shoulders. "Yes."

"Grab the thickest book you see and bring it 'ere." 

Ruthie skips over to the shelf. She immediately spots the book. The spine is cracked from being opened and closed so many times. She is careful when she extracts it because it looks very old too. Her fingertips tingle with the feel of fondness. It is a little heavy and she slowly makes her way back.

Aunt Izzy helps her put the album on the small table and Ruthie clambers up on the chair close to Grandpa Hudson. 

The old man's hand shakes slightly as he opens the cover. The first photo is a black and white wedding picture. Its edges are yellowing from age and cracked at some parts. The man is handsome, if a little somber, and the woman has eyes that twinkle even when she is not smiling. 

"This is me Gram and Grandpa." Grandpa Hudson starts. “First Brennans here in Brooklyn.” 

They go through the album filled with photographs of people that resemble Ruthie in varying degrees. Generations and generations of Brennans. She gasps when she sees a small girl with Grandpa Hudson’s late wife, Grandma Lily. 

“Who’s this?” She asks, pointing at the girl. 

Grandpa Hudson smiles. “Why, that’s Maggie. Your Dad’s and Izzy’s mom.” 

“She looks like me!” 

“I told you, didn’t I?” He turns the page.

Another wedding photograph but it is newer than the rest. Maggie is all grown up, red hair bright, and with a familiar man with cool grey eyes who looks like her Daddy and Jon. “Grandpa Jack!” 

Grandpa Hudson nods. “Battling Jack. Good lad. Taught him to box, I did.” 

Ruthie tilts her head and listens to the older man as he tells her how her Daddy’s parents met.

*  
“Daddy?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“How come your mommy never visits us like Abuelita does?”

Daddy looks a bit taken aback. Ruthie has been thinking about it since Aunt Izzy and her have said goodbye to Grandpa Hudson, who has given Ruthie two pictures from the Brennan family album to keep. 

“Well Ruthie,” Daddy finally says, “my father and my mother did not separate in good terms. And you know how I look a lot like Grandpa Jack?"

She nods. 

He pauses, carefully choosing his words. "My mother is still working on forgiving my father. Until she does that she would rather that we don't meet face to face."

Ruthie blinks as she processed the information. "But that's not fair. You can't help looking like your daddy."

Daddy smiles. "Life's rarely fair, Ruthie." He says. "We just have to make the best of it."

They are silent for a moment.

"Do you miss her?"

"Sometimes I think about her, yes. But I have you, and Jon, Sophia and your Mommy. And Aunt Izzy and Uncle Foggy and Aunt Karen--"

"Abuelo and Abuelita too and Grandpa Hudson and Father Lanthom!"

Daddy nods. “You have to remember, Ruthie. Family is more then sharing the same last name or having the same features.”

"It's about loving and caring and understanding, right?"

"That's correct," He says with a pat on her head. "When did you become so smart?"

"I'm always smart. I gots it from Mommy."

That earns her a wonderful laugh from Daddy.

Later that night, Ruthie asks Mommy to help her make a new family picture. They make copies and cut out and glue it in a thick cardstock paper. Ruthie wants to include everyone. 

*  
“This is my family.” Ruthie says when Ms. Francine calls on her to present her collage picture. She introduces them all. "My Daddy said being a family is more than sharing a last name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> deabhal djowl -gaelic, "Devil/Demon"  
> a leanbh - irish, "My Child"


	3. Wild Blue Yonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> True heroism start at home with the strength to let your children go and fight even when your heart cries to hold them close.

Most teenagers wanted a car as their high school graduation gift. But Jon and Soph were never what one would consider as “most” teenagers. They sat in front of their parents and their aunt, shoulders touching in a show of consolidation as if their synchronized movements and thoughts were not enough.

“We want in.” They said simply, an outsider wouldn’t have understood but for the other adults in the room those three words were more than adequate. 

Claire knew this day was coming. She knew it the first time the twins demanded justice for a classmate wrongly accused of breaking a crayon in their preschool classroom. His smile was not the only thing they got from Matt. The burning desire to right all wrongs was strong in them too. 

It made her heart clench and her hand tightened around her husband. _Too soon._ She thought. _Too soon._

They were barely eighteen (their birthday just three days ago) and they had grown so much. They were both taller than her now and it would break her back if she tried to pick them up but that was exactly what she wanted to do. She wanted to pick them up and hold them close to her and hide them from the unfair and unjust world they all lived in. A mother’s folly. In her eyes they would always be babies. Her babies. 

Matt patted her hand comfortingly, correctly sensing her distress just as her sister-in-law a matter of factly says, “This is not a club, children.” 

“We know that,” Soph replied, pushing an unruly piece of hair back behind her ear. “If anything, it’s a family business.”

“Except we don’t get paid.” Jon added with a cheeky little smile. Claire was not sure whether she wanted to laugh or to smack him for making light of this situation.

There was a running joke, more of a fact really, in their family that the twins, especially Jon, were Foggy's children as much as they were hers and Matt's. This knee jerk reaction of Jon to wisecrack, so very much like Foggy, was a definite proof of that. 

But then he was serious and he was all Matt's son now. The same tick on his jaw and the same tilt of his head. "We thought long and hard about this." He said. 

"You trained us well and good," Soph continued almost in the same breath as her brother. "We understand the risk--"

"Do you?" Matt asked. "This job is not always some amateur mugger in the streets or a group of untrained fighters. More often than not it will be professionals who knows how to kill."

The twins looked unfazed. It worried her. They had seen much, growing up in this household. Claire and Matt had tried to shield them as much as they could but there was only so much they could do. How many times had the children snuck into their bedroom to check on Dad? Or to see Aunt Izzy who crashed the night. Claire's careful stitches couldn't and didn't hide everything. The truth of Matt and Izzy's nightly "patrols" laid clearly with jagged lines of scars crisscrossing their bodies and the multicolored bruises that painted their skins.

"You grew up with this," Matt said, "so you may think this is normal but there are other ways to help."

Jon snorted and Soph's hand snapped crisp against his arm. He didn't even blink at his sister's abuse but he did pull himself together.

"What Jon is trying to say is, we are still going to help in other ways but we all know how sometimes that's not enough." 

Was this not the crux of it all? What was enough? The twins would be going to Columbia come fall. Jon wanted to be a writer and Soph wanted to be a lawyer. In another life, being law abiding useful members of society would have been enough. But these children. Her wonderful children wanted to bleed, wanted their blood to add to the already high amount of Murdock blood that seeped through the cracks of this city's streets. 

"Mom?" 

Claire's head snapped towards the twins. Both of them were looking at her. She had been quiet so far. The twins had learned early on that a quiet mom was not an okay mom. 

How long before it was Jon she was stitching? How long before it was Soph she was suturing? The image of it made her straightened up. Everybody's attention was suddenly on her. 

"You shouldn't do this, not this soon." She said. 

The works barely left her mouth when she realized how silly it sounded. Of course, they had to do it this soon. She could see it in their eyes. They were Murdocks and justice and fairness had an inexplicable pull on them. They would not stand and watch. Not if they could do something about it themselves. She lifted a halting hand when she saw the twins open their mouths. No doubt to defend their choice in eloquent words but Claire was not done. 

“I am not saying this because I think you’re incapable or unprepared,” she took a deep breath, “but you’re my children. I have killed men to protect you and I will do it again if I had too. I will protect you even from yourselves." 

"Mom--" 

She shook her head. This was her time and she would use it. "You can ask your Dad and your Aunt but I will tell you that this job, _this vocation_ you want to enter will not just demand your body. It will take a toll on everything else in your life and right now it might not seemed like much of a trade off but you will grow up. You will find something else to cherish and I want you both to think very hard and long about the things you are willing to give up."

She felt drained when she finished, however, at the same time a great weight had lifted from her. She had said her piece. She would not stop their decision, they were adults after all, no matter how much she wished otherwise.

They looked just a bit troubled. But in a mirrored move they grabbed either of her hand. 

"Mom," they said, "the only trade off that matters to us is that we keep our family safe. By going out there and cleaning up the streets of the scum, we will make it a safer place for you and Ruthie."

"Let us protect you this time." Soph stated, giving her hand a squeeze.

There was a moment of silence. Claire looked at Jon and Soph. Her children. The best of her and Matt. This was their calling, wasn’t it? They would follow their father’s and their aunt’s footsteps not because of some idealistic goal to save the world. But because they wanted to protect their family. What did it say about her that it made her happy that it was in a way a selfish desire that drove her children. 

"Besides Dad and Aunt Izzy aren't getting any younger. We couldn't in good conscience let the old folks do it." Jon piped in.

He barely dodged the coaster Izzy threw at his head. Despite herself, Claire found herself chuckling. She held her children's hands. Warm and already callused from their training but still unscarred. 

"I want you two to promise me something." Claire said.

"Anything."

"You will not take stupid risks. You will be smart. You will have each other's backs."

The twins nodded solemnly. "We will."

Claire took these words to heart. A promise made is a promise kept in the Murdock household. This promise would get her through the nights just as her husband’s promise to always come home to her had always done.


	4. A Stark Among the Devils

Officially, Phil Coulson is not Izzy Murdock’s boss. _Officially_ , she can refuse this errand because the Avengers' tower may only be six blocks away but God, how she hates going there and spending more than three seconds in Stark’s company.

When Izzy asks why she is chosen for this task, Coulson replies that she and Stark get on pretty well, which translates to “You can handle Stark’s bullshit better than anybody else.” Izzy would have said no _(should've_ said no) but Coulson is a Machiavellian bastard and tells her that she can consider it a personal favor to him. She growls a little because he _knows_ he has her in a corner and because unofficially Coulson is a friend and friends do favors for one another every now and then.

That doesn’t mean she cannot rant to her sister-in-law while she gets her fill of homemade tamales.

"I mean I get it, the HQ needs a security update, but why can't they just do it through the net?" she says, in between bites of food. "Why do _I_ need to go the Avengers' tower and get the damn software from Stark?"

Claire makes a comforting noise. That makes Izzy calm down a bit. In this kitchen, she always feels like the teenager she was, and not the grown woman that she is.

"You and Matt and your distaste of Tony Stark," Claire says, shaking her head. "I thought he was pretty charming the one time I met him."

“Oh yes, he can be _charming_ ," Izzy agrees sourly, "for the first five minutes. Then the obnoxious sets in."

Claire chuckles then she tilts her head to the nearby staircase. "Jon, Soph. What did I say about eavesdropping?"

There is a shuffling of feet and two sixteen year olds appear, not looking a bit guilty about being caught.

"Where's your sister and your cousin?" Claire inquires half amused, half stern.  

"Playing," Jon replies.

"Aren't you suppose to be watching them?"

"They are fine in the room, playing tea parties. Ruthie said she can handle it,” says Soph causally. “Are you going to Avengers’ Tower, Aunt Izzy?”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “For my sins, yes.” She can’t really understand why her oldest nephew and niece are so fascinated by the Avengers--well, that’s not entirely true, she _can_ , but once you cowboy around with them enough, the novelty begins to wear off. She likes Clint and Natasha, Thor is a delight, and Steve is a good friend, though they got off to a rocky start (harboring his amnesiac best friend without his knowledge was sort of a sore spot). She’s the only person who gets to call him a dumbass punk and he can’t get that annoyed with her. She adores Sam and has a soft spot for Wanda, but Stark?

The plain truth of it is that Tony Stark makes Izzy and Matt uncomfortable. They’re blue collar kids, Hell’s Kitchen born and bred (Izzy insists that her formative years growing up in Brooklyn did nothing but confirm her hardscrabble Hell’s Kitchen heart). Stark’s solution to most problems is “throw money at it and it’ll go away” which _works_ , but still. It makes Izzy feel like she wandered into a much shinier, more dizzying version of Oz the few time she visits the Tower, and the Good Witch of the South is a British-accented AI.

But Jon and Soph both have stars in their eyes when it comes to the Avengers and she can’t entirely blame them. Jon was Captain America for Halloween for at least three years, and Soph was either the Scarlet Witch or the Black Widow. Once, Soph went as the Winter Soldier to Jon’s Captain America and Izzy--hadn’t known whether to laugh or be disturbed. She’d gotten more sensitive to anything involving Bucky since he had lived with her and it hadn’t left her, even though he was gone now.

Izzy pushes the thought away. Bucky left three years ago, and she’s--well, she’s a grown woman. And she has a daughter to think about. Ayden is three, and she has a family who loves her more than life and that’s all Izzy wants for her daughter.

But Jon and Soph are looking at her like puppies who are _not_ asking to be taken out on a walk and though she’s had years of being immune to the effect of the big Murdock eyes (Matt’s got nothing on the twins), it’s still a trial. Izzy sighs. “I take it you suddenly feel the need to take a trip to Manhattan?”

“We’ve never _been_ in the Tower, Aunt Izzy,” Jon cajoles. “We’ve lived in New York all our lives and we’ve only seen it from the sidewalk! It’s disgraceful. We can’t look ourselves in the face."

"Which is expounded by the fact that our father and aunt work with the Avengers in a semi regular basis. It's like adding salt to the wound really," Soph adds.

“Your father wouldn’t work with the Avengers unless he has no other choice,” Izzy mutters. Matt’s ridiculously protective of their little scrap of city and he has, as Foggy says, good grounds to be, since the usual method of the Avengers is “blow shit up and see what happens” and Hell’s Kitchen _really_ can’t take any more of those tactics. At least the Hulk isn’t with them at the moment. Small mercies.

"We could help you protect the software,” Jon suggests hopefully.  

Izzy arches an eyebrow. “You think I can’t handle a simple drop off?”

“Aunt Izzy, _please_ ,” says Soph earnestly. “Christmas is in three months! You wouldn’t even have to buy us any gifts."

“Who can resist that logic,” says Izzy dryly. She will probably buy them gifts anyway. Soph’s been eyeing a new hard drive for her computer and Jon wants new boxing gloves.

So Izzy takes her niece and nephew to Avengers' Tower. Claire promises to give Ayden dinner and a bath and Ruthie is practicing her babysitting skills on her youngest cousin, so Izzy is not worried. Sometimes her ten year old niece is more of a mother than her.

They ride the subway. Some people are eyeing the twins as they start to finish each other's sentences in their excitement.

"Do you think we can talk to Iron Man?" Jon asks.

"Truthfully, Jon, I hope you don't," Izzy says frankly, but Jon’s face is so disappointed she relents. “He may take notice of you, or he may not. It depends.”

“Depends on what?” Soph asks and Izzy grimaces.

“On himself.”  

* * *

 

The Avengers' Tower is a sight to behold no matter how many times a person sees it. The tourists mill about the street, taking pictures and hoping to see a flyby of the infamous Iron Man. The twins stick close to her as they cut to the back. To a secret entrance, unknown to the public. She let the security scan her retina and recognize her voice.

"We've been expecting you, Ms. Murdock," Jarvis greets in his cool voice. The twins look owl-eyed at the ceiling. “Who are your guests?”

“My niece and nephew, Jonathan and Sophia Murdock,” Izzy replies.  

"Ah yes. Shall I give them temporary clearance?”

“For now, please do Jarvis,” Izzy says as Jon says in a stage whisper, “ _The ceiling is talking._ ”

“That’s Jarvis the AI, dummy,” Soph whispers back fiercely.  

Jon smiles and nudges his twin on the shoulder. "I knew that."

"Mr. Stark is in his lab. He shall meet you there." Jarvis informs them when they enter the glass elevator.

" _Whoa_." Jon breathes out as he presses his face against the glass. "This is some MIB stuff right here."

The elevator door slid open and they all step into Oz. From this height and with the 360 degrees floor to ceiling windows, they are afforded a view of all of Manhattan. It glitters under the midday sun. Beside her the twins are slack jawed, a rare occurrence.

“Stay close,” Izzy tells the twins. “Don’t touch anything. Unless you want to blow the city up by accident.”

Their host is hunched over his desk, there are complex formulas hovering around him in a strange bluish white light and sparks are flying off from whatever contraption he is welding. He does not seemed to notice their arrival. The twins are looking around with wide eyes and Izzy can see Soph eyeing some of the computers whirring away on the walls.

“Mr. Stark,” Jarvis announces. “Ms. Murdock is here for the SHIELD security update.”

It’s only then that Tony Stark lifts his head. He flips up his entirely too sleek and too shiny welding mask and smirks. “Ahhh Murdock, I thought you’re not part of SHIELD. What are you--” he stops mid-sentence and peers at Jon and Soph. “There didn’t used to be two more of you, was there?”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “Jon and Soph, meet Tony Stark. Stark, these my brother’s kids, Jonathan and Sophia Murdock.”

The twins and Stark size each other up.

“You look like your father,” he says by way of greeting, pointing at Jon. “Quite unfortunate.”

“ _You_ look like a--” Jon starts to say, but Soph finishes for him, “an asshole.”

“So really,” Jon continues, glaring now, “between all of us--”

“Who’s the worse off?” Soph says, an identical look of challenge on her. Izzy doesn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or wish for a hole to open up in the ground.

Stark looks a bit stunned for a second but he quickly recovers and he turns towards Izzy. “Do they always talk like that?”

“Only when they’re pissed,” Izzy tells him dryly.

“I do seem to have that effect on people,” Stark agrees, but the surprise is fading away into something almost worse-- _interest_. “How old are they?”

“Sixteen,” the twins say in one voice. It’s not quite “creepy twins from the _Shining_ ,” but give it time.  

Stark laughs. “Not a bad circus trick. Have they met Barton? He’d love them.”

“We haven’t had--” Soph starts and lets Jon finish for her, “the privilege.”

“Okay guys,” Izzy says, shaking her head. “Enough with the ‘we speak as one mind’ thing. Stark, here’s your flash drive and next time you see Coulson tell him I am not his errand girl.”

But Stark ignores her outstretched hand. “One mind?” he repeats. “What, we talking like a mental connection here? Maximoff weirdness?”

“Not exactly,” is all Izzy tries to say, but Soph (the little traitor) pipes up with, “My brother and I--”

“Know what each other’s thinking,” Jon steps in. “Sometimes it’s annoying--”

“But it has it’s uses,” Soph concludes.   

Starks rubs his chin. “You can share information between the two of you? Like access knowledge from each other.”

“It’s more like--”

“Oversharing,” Soph says making a face.

“So if you read something, he would know,” Stark extrapolates with a manic glint in his eyes.  “Or if he learns how to play the piano you would know too?”

The twins blink. Jon turns to Soph. “I can’t believe--”

“We’ve never _tried_ that,” says Soph, looking disgruntled. “It would help--”

“With my math classes,” Jon says, and Soph says immediately and flatly, “ _No_.”

“It wouldn’t be--”

“Yes, it would! Dad won’t be--”

“Happy. You’re right.” Soph lets out a huff and Jon says in a wheedling tone, “But _I_ would be.”

“No!”

“ _Enough_ ,” says Izzy, cutting through the twins’ communication. They have the grace to look slightly ashamed.

“Murdock you’re no fun,” Stark intones, looking almost disappointed that the twins peculiar brand of communication has been cut off.

“Give me the security update, Stark and we’ll be on our way.”

“Fine, fine,” the older man says with a shrug of his shoulder. “Come over here."

Izzy reluctantly follows him to a new computer display as the twins tag along behind her. A robot arm whirrs, turns and seems to--wave at them? She’s not sure. “Dummy likes you,” Stark calls over his shoulder. “Not the tall one, the short ones.”

“We’re almost the same height as our aunt,” says Jon indignantly.  

“Why don’t you two stay over there,” Izzy says firmly. The further away they are from Stark the better.

“If we touch something will it explode?” asks Soph with a far too hopeful gleam in her eye.

“I keep the explosives in the basement,” Stark says and when Soph’s face falls, he asks, “Why, you interested in science?”

“I like numbers,” Soph replies, not taking her eyes off the schematics on the screens. “They make more sense than people do.”   

“Hmm. Then check my formulas. I can’t seem to make it work,” Stark says in more or less not a condescending manner.

Izzy does not believe for one second Stark can’t get a formula to work, but that’s all the invitation Soph needs.  Jon sits down on the aerodynamic chair and grabs the odd tennis ball on the desk. He begins playing catch with Dummy and watches his sister work. She scans the screen, lips moving slightly as she calculates numbers. Without warning, Jon pitches the tennis ball at the back of his sister’s head. Without seeming to take much effort, Soph spins, catches it and throws it right back. Jon catches it without missing a beat.  

“Now that’s just showing off,” Stark mutters under his breath. When Izzy catches his eye, he shrugs. “So they’re a dog and pony show.”

“Their father trained them,” Izzy replies, fighting to keep her tone even. “So did I.”

“You’re like the Von Trapps, but with crime fighting,” says Stark. His eyes are back to the computer screen as he downloads whatever it is that the security needed to update. “They taking up the horns after you and your brother retire?”

Izzy doesn’t reply. The twins seem to think it’s a foregone conclusion that they’ll carry on being the Devils of Hell’s Kitchen when she and Matt can’t do it anymore (whenever that will be), but Izzy has doubts, and she knows Matt and Claire do as well. The twins have had the luxury of happy childhoods, no tragedy has touched them like it did for Matt or even Izzy. But they grew up watching their father fight with fists and words, and their mother patch him up when he comes home through a window, and for them, it’s a natural progression.

There is a moment of silence that is only broken by the whirring of machineries. Then Jon’s voice is heard.

“I think this part is wrong,” he says. He is standing up now beside his sister and points to a series of formulas on the screen in front of her. Stark perks up. Izzy is sure that not many people ever saw a Tony Stark mistake before. Not with formulas and schematics anyway.

“I was just thinking that too,” Soph says. “But the _math_ looks like it’s right.”

Jon shrugs. “Numbers can be wrong.”

“Numbers aren’t wrong,” Soph insists, the fervent light of a future math major in her eye, but Jon is unmoved.

“ _Numbers_ aren’t wrong, but the formula is,” he acquises, looking at the screen again. “Try moving the first one around a bit.”

Soph doesn’t hesitate, she taps the screen where it rests, shifting around symbols and numbers. There’s a moment of silence and then Jarvis remarks, “That is correct, Miss Murdock.”

Stark turns an accusing look at the ceiling. “What’s the point of you if you don’t tell me when my math is off?”

“Sir, I tried, but you insist on doing it so. Also, you seem to think that is impossible to make a mistake when it comes to mathematics,” the AI replies with polite sarcasm.  

Stark makes a face at this slice of humble pie, but his attention goes back to Jon and Soph. “You like numbers like your sister does?”

“Not really,” says Jon, shrugging. “I like history though and that deals with patterns. I just know when something is off, and Soph is the one who knows how to fix it.”

The interest that had been lurking on Stark’s face during this whole time has now bloomed to an all out fascination. It gives Izzy the terrible image of her niece and nephew’s minds put on a lab table, ready for dissection. Good thing the computer in front of her pings. _Download complete_.

“Okay children. I got what I needed. I think it’s time to go,” she says firmly, already nudging them towards the doors.

There is a tingling in her spine, a humming in her bones. She can’t shake off the uncomfortable conviction that Stark’s going to dissemble Jon and Soph right there, like they’re clocks he wants to take apart and put back together.

 

* * *

It is a Sunday, just after Mass. Izzy helps Matt barbecue, or the other way around. It’s hard to tell. The twins are still chattering about their visit to the Avengers’ Tower yesterday. Ruthie and Ayden are politely listening.

“I think the twins are in love,” Claire says and she places a pitcher of lemonade on the table. “Tony Stark must have made quite the impression.”

“More like his mistake in math made an impression,” Izzy corrects. “And Dummy. Plus, I think Soph was really impressed by the computers.”

“Oh yes. Remember when she built her own laptop, Matt?” Claire asks.

“You mean the time she nearly blew up the house?” Matt calls back from the deck.

“ _Almost_ explosions don’t count,” Soph pipes up indignantly. “And the laptop _worked_.”

Jon sniggers and Ruthie giggles into her hand. Ayden tilts her head and smiles, not really quite understanding what the older people are saying. Izzy comes forward and kisses her daughter’s head. “Even _almost_ explosions count, Soph darling. Trust me and your father.”

Soph crosses her arms and for the moment looks almost too much like Claire that it makes them all chuckle even more at her expense. Then the doorbell echoes through the house.

“Are we expecting anybody else?” Claire inquires just as Matt groans. “It’s _him_.”

Izzy coils upright. “It is too late for a restraining order?” she mumbles under her breath.

“I don’t think that will stop him,” Matt says dryly.

The doorbell rings again, twice this time. In consecutive order.  

“Might as well see what he wants before he breaks down the door."

Ruthie stands up. “I’ll get it!”

She runs back into the house and little Ayden wiggles out of her chair and follows her cousin in a flair of dark red hair.

 _Well good luck to Stark_ , Izzy thought as she takes a swig of her ice cold beer.

* * *

 Matthew Michael Murdock’s house is a bit difficult to find. It is off the books and out of records and Tony Stark has to pull some mighty strong strings to locate this, he looks up, _rustic_ brownstone. This place is as suburban as New York City can get.

Pepper tells him he's both crazy and creepy for pinpointing the Murdocks down but he tells her that it is his civic duty to guide those twins to greatness. Brilliant minds are hard to come by these days. A few years under his tutelage and Jonathan and Sophia Murdock will have their PhDs before they are 21. They may even be as great as him but that's a long shot.

He is about to ring the doorbell again when it cracks open. Out pops a girl with pale skin, bright blue eyes and fiery red hair. She tilts her head and for some reason, Tony feels like he is being scrutinized.

"Can I help you?" The girl asks, in a sweet tone.

Tony fights to play with the neckline of his suddenly too tight t-shirt. What is it with this girl? "Is this Matthew Murdock's house?"

The girl smiles. Pleasant and lovely on her face but almost reminiscent of a predator baring its teeth. It’s a warning and he’s not so dumb as to not recognize that. Something about Natasha gives off the same vibe. "Yes. Come on in Mr. Stark," she says as she opens the door wider. "We're having barbeque at the back."

It is only when he steps in that he notices another redhaired child. _Oh god, there's more of them_ , he thinks. This one is smaller. No more than four, he'd reckon. Darker hair than the first girl, but still that distinctive shade of red. A curious expression and interested eyes.  Doesn’t bear much of a resemblance to the twins, or the younger one.  

He follows them in. No way is he giving his back to these girls. Paranoid as that sound even in the privacy of his own head.

Alas, the Devils of Hell’s Kitchen look less than pleased to see him. He can’t imagine why. Isabelle Murdock and her brother’s faces go stern and hard, alarmingly like the saints they seem to be so fond of.

"Mr. Stark!" Jon exclaims.

At least one of them looks happy to see him. His twin gets to her feet, her expression more controlled. Is it in direct correlation to her brother, her way of balancing him out? How much of her own personality is in contrast to her brother’s?

"Do you need help with your formulas again?" The boy asks.

Tony can't help the grimace that formed on his face. Jonathan Murdock is almost tactless in his eagerness. "No, I'm actually here to talk to your parents."

"We didn’t break anything, did we?" Soph asks.

Tony snaps his fingers and points at the girl, "On the contrary, you helped me figure out the kinks for my Mark 97 B."

There is the kind of stunned pause that Tony knows he so often elicits before Isabelle Murdock echoes, “97 B?”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” he replies mildly. “Have you thought about early admission for your twins? MIT, easy.”

Their father blinks behind those ridiculous round glasses, as he says “MIT?” even as their mother echoes, “Early admission? For what, colleges?”

"Yeah. Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Engineering is a profitable career. You'd probably have your doctorates by twenty-one, and then I can hire you. You both can work on my R&D team."

Their aunt rises to her feet, slowly and deliberately putting down her beer bottle. He wonders how she manages to look menacing in a heather grey t-shirt and cut off shorts and holey tights. “They just turned sixteen.”

Tony gives her a look that says, _so_? "They're college level. Aren't they taking advance units, already?"

“I take calculus,” says the girl carefully, eyeing Tony like he’s some dangerous animal. Which, _rude_ , he’s not even wearing the suit at the moment.

"AP physics as well, I'd guess you find that unchallenging too, don't you?"

Soph looks like a deep secret of hers got revealed. “Um--”

Their mother, a really gorgeous woman, honestly, but frankly terrifying, he wonders how Murdock (the male one) got so lucky, asked in a voice of genuine concern and surprise, “I thought you were having a hard time with physics, Soph.”

Soph flushes darkly, her warm skin the color of cinnamon now. “I--I was--it’s not _easy_ , but some of the concepts are--”

“If you can correct _my_ math, you could ace that class in your sleep,” Tony says.

The girl licks her lips, steps closer to her twin. She looks faintly hunted and after all this, Tony maybe thinks he should hang on his own shingle out for family therapy or something. Helping the young gifted of today become the leaders of tomorrow. Something like that. He could get Pepper to come up with something, right?

There is silence and Tony kinda feels bad. Just a bit. Not too much though.

"I don't want to go without Jon," she says. The flush is gone now, she’s bone pale. “It’s, I’m--I need him. He keeps me from sliding into places I can’t come back from. He keeps me light, not burdened.”

“Aw, sis,” says her brother, gently and fondly, and puts his arm around her shoulder, presses a kiss to her temple. “Love you too.”

She shakes her head at him, impatient with this sentiment and Tony thinks of another pair of twins, another brother and sister who wouldn’t go without the other.

"But Soph, I don't want to hold you back," Jon says, all serious and all Matt Murdock now. “If you could do early admission and go to MIT--or anywhere else--you should do it.”

Soph shakes her head again. “I’m not going to MIT, I’m not studying science or math or engineering,” she says firmly. “Not that those aren’t important and good things,” she adds. “I’m going to be a lawyer, I’m going to be a partner in dad’s firm and I’m going to _Columbia_ ,” she finishes, glaring at Tony. “Who the hell wants to go to Massachusetts anyway?”

"Ouch," Tony says, but not really meaning it. "A lawyer? Look kid, and this is not meant to offend you Murdock, but lawyers don't have much fun."

Her father and aunt smile, two identical razor sharp things. “Not the way we do it,” says Matt Murdock coolly.

"Hmm, what do you do? Parkour while you talk to the jury or something?"

“He’s a little more subtle in the courtroom,” says Isabelle Murdock.

Suddenly the youngest child, the little girl, gets up and runs to her, grabbing her around the legs. “Mama, _up_ ,” she says forcefully. Isabelle sighs and lifts her into her arms, cuddling the little girl close.

Tony looks at her again, the child in her arms and, as usual, says the first thing in his head, “That’s not Barnes’ kid is it?”

Dead silence falls over the company as the color leaches out of Isabelle Murdock’s face. The little girl buries her face in her mother’s neck.   

"Mr. Stark," It’s Murdock's wife who speaks first. "That's none of your business. And if you are done ruining our Sunday barbeque, I'd want you to get out of our home now."

He winces and takes a big step back. Aw jeez, he’s gone and done it now, but he can’t _stop_. “ _Is_ she Barnes’? I didn’t think he’d be the type to--”

Matt Murdock rises to his feet, quiet and silent as one of Natasha’s garrotes. “Leave. Before I--or one of my children--make you.”

The twins and their youngest sister band around their aunt and--cousin, apparently, their faces hard and unfriendly. “I _am_ sorry,” Tony says, still backing up a little. “I have a thing with boundaries, I’m trying to get better. Somewhat. Infinitesimally. Barely. I really do think your kids should look into early admission, though. Some kind of scholarship fund, maybe, if you’re worried about tuition? I could come up with something for the Hell’s Kitchen kids.”    

Maybe he should have opened with that statement. Live and learn.

“She isn’t Barnes’,” says Isabelle quietly and without preamble. Everyone turns to look at her. “Ayden is my daughter,” she says, clearly and distinctly. “Anything else doesn’t matter.”  

Tony clears his throat. He can make himself understood on this ground. "Look Murdock, I didn't mean to be nosy. Well maybe a little bit but I have a thing about men leaving their children fatherless. And if Barnes did that, I'd drag him back from wherever hell he went to."

Isabelle closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. When she opens them again, they’re overbright, but not wet. “Thank you,” she says simply. “I appreciate the sentiment.”

He nods and the room suddenly feels less tense. The twins relax a little, the youngest sister slowly eases her posture.

Tony smacks his lips together. "Sooo...that barbeque smells good. Can I have some?" He pauses. "Also since you both don't want to be engineers, how about becoming my part time lab assistants? I can pay you."

“Get out of our house Stark,” says Matt Murdock wearily and Tony goes. Discretion, valor, all of those good things.

* * *

 The package arrives at their doorstep three days after the backyard incident addressed to "The Murdocks". Matt doesn't need to be a psychic to know who it is from. Jon and Soph's hearts leap in synchronized excitement as they unwrap it in the living room.

"They're kali sticks!" Jon exclaims as he extricates it from the box.

Soph checks the piece of paper that accompanies the package--quality paper, ballpoint pen, scrawly handwriting that Matt can sense sprawling across the page. "It says they’re not just regular kali sticks. They can be electrified."

Izzy takes them from Jon and slowly, experimentally spins them over her hands. The sticks are more Matt’s weapon than they are hers, but she keeps up with training with them nonetheless. She cracks one on top of the other and the resulting crackle of electricity makes the hairs on Matt’s arms stand up.

“Okay,” Izzy says, not letting go of the sticks, “ _that’s_ awesome. And useful.”

Jon and Soph continue digging around in the apparently unending package like Christmas came early. “It’s a suit!” Soph says excitedly. “It looks like it would fit you, dad. Oh there’s another one for you, Aunt Izzy.”

 _How in the world did Stark get our measurements?_ Matt thinks as Jon reads the paper that’s attached to it. “It says that if someone tries to take off the cowl, they’ll get electrocuted if they don’t know how to do it right. He says the instructions are for family only.”    

That seems unnecessarily dangerous,” Matt says dubiously.

“I don’t know,” Claire says, peering over Jon’s shoulder. “I think something like that could have it’s uses.”

“What are these?” Ruthie asks, she passes one into Matt’s hand. It is spherical in shape. Smooth except for a raise part at the top which he thinks a detonator of some kind.

“Smoke bombs.” Jon says, almost breathlessly. “It has instruction on how to make them in here. So cool!”

“What are we, Batman now?” Matt complains as Izzy pats his shoulder commiseratingly.

“He must be really sorry,” Claire says, “if he made all of these in three days.”

* * *

 

Somehow, though Izzy is not sure why, the twins still think that Tony Stark is worth cultivating a friendship with.

They connect to him in an intellectual level, Claire tells her. Ever so rational, her sister-in-law. She loves her for it. It makes sense, of course, but Izzy doesn't like it. Nor does Matt or Claire but Jon and Soph are clearly fascinated. Schematics and numbers and patterns and formulas are all part of Stark's allure.

But her nephew and niece are happy with their new found challenges that came in the form of Stark’s blueprints. Advanced robotics and thermonuclear astrophysics that flew over the other adults’ heads.  Izzy grudgingly admits to herself that Stark actually is a good influence to Jon and Soph. He keeps them mentally stimulated.

Maybe next time she can thank him. Maybe. For now though she would just work on staying in a room with him without wanting to punch him in the face.


End file.
